


Before The World You Know Was Like It Is

by loghain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Smut, alternate universe - wild west
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loghain/pseuds/loghain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a night's stop in a town on the way down to Bobby's ranch, and they don't use matching names anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before The World You Know Was Like It Is

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the pairing. Title from the song 'Wolf And I'.

Hooves hit the dust and John's horse slows as it comes up level with Dean's, and his father looks at him and says, "You remember who we are today? Our story?"

"Yessir," Dean answers, tipping his hat against the searing sunlight as he looks at John. "John McGillicuddy and Dean Hetfield. Just two guys passing on through to Singer's ranch, to go do work down there for him for a couple of months." John nods approval. Dean turns his head back to the road ahead, a straight path leading on through to a town. A smile from his father might've been nice, some sort of acknowledgement, but he knows that's a little much to expect. John doesn't smile much anymore. Not since before Sam left and they'd been able to go around with matching fake last names - the three of them, something stupid like McGillicuddy and sons, that's how they'd introduce themselves.

Then Sam fled out in the night, leaving only a note. Said he found a girl; he was gonna marry her. He was gonna be normal. He didn't want any part of their lives anymore. See as it happens the second bit of their story is right on the money - they are heading down to Bobby's lands, about sixty miles past this particular town. Most people think he's just a drunk miser with slow fat horses, but John and Dean, they know him a lot better than that. All of them hunt the things that lurk in the night, the things that steal children from beds. Sam did too. But not anymore.

And now they don't use matching names, cause they quickly found that people will run you out of town for being one thing. They're more like to shoot you if you're something else, too.

"We doublin' up tonight, dad?" Dean says, and it's casual as he bumps his horse too close to his father with a smirk, but John just stares at him then pulls his eyes forwards and drives his heels into his mare's flank. The horse canters off with a whinny, and Dean lets out a defeated sigh and drops his chin to his chest.

Dean catches up with his father when they get a room in a too-crowded inn. Dean's never liked these places, but John favours them; he says once a man's drunk and cavorting with his buddies he's not gonna throw punches if he catches Dean touching John (and he always puts emphasis on it like that, reminds Dean that he likes to initiate that sort of thing, and that puts a sour taste in Dean's mouth) and that when a place is noisy and thriving odd noises are less likely to catch attention.

"Hey, dad," Dean says, trying to catch John's arm to tell him he's put the horses in a stable, but his father spins on him and stabs a finger against his chest and says sharply, "You don't call me that here." Without him saying it, Dean still feels like the look John gives him screams "Are you stupid, boy?" and Dean swallows his pride and decides he's gonna turn in early for the night.

He's never alone long, anyway. He's just about drifting off, lying on top of the rough cotton sheets with his face pressed into the pillow, when the room door opens. There are two beds, but John Winchester - with all the grace of a lame horse - collapses on top of Dean, shifting his weight when Dean lets out an uncomfortable groan. "Sorry," he murmurs, and he spreads his weight out, a hand slipping around Dean's middle and his knees setting in the sheets. His hips roll against Dean's ass, and he wants to be mad, but it's been too long since his father's come to him and touched him like this and wanted him without long, angry looks, without pushing him away and without refusing to look him in the eye.

He pushes his hips back, and John ruts down against him, pressing wet kisses to the back of his neck. Dean can feel him getting hard and he knows he is, too; but it's disappointing, at the same time, that it takes this. It takes dissonance between them. It takes John being a little on the side of drunk before he wants Dean and just takes him. That's all Dean wants - to be wanted. As simple as that. He wants it like this all the time, John's weight bearing down on him, heavy and hot, his mouth possessive on his skin, and John curses and slurs something about wanting to fuck Dean and - fuck, he wants that, all the time.

"Dad," Dean whimpers, pushing up, and he twists his body until it hurts so he can kiss John, claiming his mouth for kiss, tasting the whiskey on his tongue. Then John pushes him back down and sits up, hot weight lifted from his body as John pulls at Dean's clothes until he's naked. He opens Dean up with thick wet fingers and Dean whimpers into the pillow, and then it's John's cock and Dean has to bite the pillow to stop himself from crying out.

John moans when he's in to the hilt, pressed flush against Dean's ass, a hand on his hip and then another wrapped around his stomach as he leans down, mouth wet and wanting against his shoulders. He fucks Dean with long, deep thrusts, and Dean cants his hips up into them, whimpering "Daddy" when he knows John's close enough to hear. Every time, it makes John groan, makes him give out a hard, driving thrust. John can pretend that he doesn't, but he gets off on how wrong it is just the same way Dean does; Dean's starting to think the only way he's ever gonna be able to come whilst being fucked is if John's the one inside him.

John tells Dean in a whisper that he's "So hot, baby" and Dean whines, panting, and John's response to that is to lean up and slam his hips forward, fucking Dean into the mattress in earnest now. Dean's cock is hard and wanting and trapped between his stomach and the sheets; he wants to touch himself, but he wants John to touch him more, and wonders between outcries if it's possible to communicate that in a way that doesn't involve outright saying it.

Luckily, drunk though he is, John's still sharp, and he asks, "You close?" Dean's response is frantic nodding, and John's hand slips underneath him, wrapping his fingers around Dean's cock. He times thrusts with the stroke of his palm, squeezing the way he knows Dean likes, running his thumb against the sensitive head to earn just that louder a sound from his son.

Dean comes first, staining the sheets, bucking up against John. He's startled to a loud moan when John comes; his father pushes him down and drives home, a hand between his shoulder blades, spilling inside him. Dean would be lying if that wasn't a good feeling. John usually prefers to come on Dean's ass or his face, but this is where Dean likes it best, the rare occasion when John doesn't pull out and fucks him through both their orgasms.

After, John rolls away, as unceremonious as his entrance, all but shoving Dean off the bed, but he clings on, rolling so that he can nestle against his father's chest, kissing his jaw before settling down against him, their legs all tangled together to make the best use of the room on the bed once Dean yanks the sheets from under them to cover their bodies instead. There's another bed, but neither of them move to it. Dean doesn't want to. John's probably too far gone to care.

"I love you," Dean says, when he knows John is asleep, because at least then he knows John has a reason for not saying it back.


End file.
